


Interlude III - Routine

by lachatblanche



Series: Dollhouse AU [21]
Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Consent Issues, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-15
Updated: 2013-01-15
Packaged: 2017-11-25 15:26:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/640301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lachatblanche/pseuds/lachatblanche
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A day in the life of Logan Howlett, Handler.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Interlude III - Routine

Logan stared at the clock, watching the second-hand move slowly around the clock face. Twenty minutes. He had twenty more minutes till he could leave for the Dollhouse without arriving ridiculously early. Twenty minutes before he could safely turn up without appearing over-eager …Twenty minutes before he could actually start feeling useful for the day. 

He had it down to a goddamned science by now.

The minute-hand moved a hair’s breadth to the right and Logan let out a sigh, shifting restlessly on his bed. Nineteen minutes left. Nineteen more minutes until he could leave this cold, lonely set of rooms behind and head to the Dollhouse to find Charles.

Ever since he had joined the Dollhouse, Logan’s day had been divided into two chief segments: Time Spent With Charles and Time Spent Without Charles. As a Handler, Logan was officially expected to care for his Active at all times but the truth was that Handlers only really earned their pay during Assignments, when their Actives left the Dollhouse. The rest of the time, the Actives’ well-being was supervised by the House Team who watched over the Dolls and nudged them in the right direction when it was time to eat or play or exercise or shower. It wasn’t unusual for Handlers to be about at this time, but most of them either preferred to limit their shifts to when they had Assignments, or else gather in the Recreation Room until such a time as they were needed.

As Logan had nothing but time on his hands and no one else to spend it with, he often ended up taking back-to-back shifts even when there were no Assignments scheduled – which, granted, wasn’t very often: Charles was, after all, the Dollhouse’s most popular Active. When there were no Assignments, however, Logan retreated to the Dollhouse floor where he watched over Charles with a keen eye, acting for all the world like the House Team did not exist. That being said, he was well aware that too much time spent hovering over his Active wouldn’t be good either for his position or for his reputation, and so he made sure to visit the Recreation Rooms with the other Handlers at least once a day. Smoking was still forbidden and alcohol wasn’t allowed, but at least the place had a pool table and a couple of TVs, so the lack wasn’t felt too badly. There were other things of course – bookshelves, games and even a chess set, but Logan didn’t really care for such distractions.

He didn’t often speak to many of the other Handlers whilst in the Rec Room, except perhaps to talk them out of their money and into a game of pool when he was feeling particularly bored. He mostly kept to himself, but never protested when Havok’s Handler Kevin strolled up to him and started chattering about something or the other. Kevin, after all, was easily satisfied: all he asked for was the occasional grunt or roll of the eyes and he’d be happy. Logan, generous soul that he was, was always ready to oblige.

There was no real schedule to life at the Dollhouse. This was mainly due to the fact that Assignments had no real time frame – they could take place day or night and could last anywhere between one hour and twenty-four, with some exceptional circumstances leading to even longer Assignations. All that mattered was the Client’s preference: whether it be 3pm or 3am, the time was to the Client’s convenience, not the House’s. The Dollhouse, as Logan had repeatedly been told, worked to accommodate the Client and not the other way around.

These reminders most often came from the mouth of Miss Frost herself, although Logan took great pains to avoid her, if only for this reason. Frost seemed to have taken something of a liking to Logan – as much of a liking, that is, as she seemed emotionally capable of having for anyone – and she seemed to be particularly fond of sending for him in order to receive weekly updates on Charles’s condition, something that Kevin assured him was not the norm.

‘Look at it this way,’ he’d said with a slight smirk, ‘It’s one of two things: either she’s concerned about your Charles and is using you to keep tabs on him-’ Logan’s eyes narrowed at the suggestion ‘- _or_ …’

‘Yes?’ Logan growled impatiently.

Kevin shrugged.

‘Or else she wants in your pants,’ he finished, his amiable expression hiding the wicked gleam in his eye. ‘Either way, darlin’, you’re screwed.’

Logan had snarled at him – he’d rather gouge his own eyes out than have _anything_ to do with Frost, thanks – but Kevin merely laughed, his high-pitched cackling doing nothing to calm Logan’s anxiety.

Frost wasn’t the only one to seek him out, however. Every now and then Logan would come into contact with Victor Creed, who made a point of stopping and having a word with him each time. As Creed was Head of Dollhouse Security, this happened more often than Logan was strictly keen on; truth was, he couldn’t help but feel that Creed was one strange sonofabitch. Half of his comments to Logan seemed to be thinly-veiled taunts hidden by a layer of brisk professionalism, while the other half seemed to be gruff but nevertheless amiable suggestions for Logan’s own benefit. It was as if Creed found some sort of odd kinship with Logan; as if he could sense that like himself, Logan wasn’t cut out for social niceties and normality.

Judging by the nature of the Dollhouse, then, it seemed that he was in exactly the right place.

Logan was constantly reminded of the Dollhouse’s sketchy morality at every turn. He saw it in the vaguely content gazes of the Actives; he saw it in the watchful eyes of the security teams; he saw it in each and every Assignment that he escorted Charles on. And these Assignments – even the ones that weren’t about sex – were more than dubious in nature.

This was brought once again to Logan’s attention as he watched Charlie slouch back onto the seat of the van, one booted foot on the seat next to him while the other rested on the floor, his legs spread wide and his attitude fully relaxed. His clothing was all black – everything from the leather jacket to the tight black jeans to his socks, and there was an air of silent menace to him even as he lay slumped in the back of the van. 

As Logan studied him, he saw a gleam of blue from beneath an eyelid; it seemed that his scrutiny of Charlie was not as covert as he had thought it was.

‘See anything you like?’ a teasing murmur came from a barely-moving mouth.

Logan’s expression didn’t so much as flicker. Instead, he raised an eyebrow.

‘Yeah I do, as a matter of fact,’ he said calmly, taking a drag of his cigar and blowing the smoke out of the window. He nodded towards Charlie’s chest. ‘Was kinda thinking that that jacket of yours ain’t half bad.’

There was a glimmer of amusement from Charlie, his mouth twitching upwards, before he suddenly swung himself up into a fully sitting position, both of his feet once more on the ground.

‘It _is_ nice, isn’t it?’ he said nonchalantly, before raking his own eyes over Logan. The gaze wasn’t flirtatious, though; it was more the look of one professional sizing another one up. He hummed pensively. ‘Where did you say that Carl found you, again?’

Logan slowly blew out a lungful of smoke.

‘The bunk above him,’ he said gruffly. At Charlie’s raised eyebrow, he clarified, ‘We were cellmates.’

‘Ah,’ Charlie nodded at that. ‘You known him long?’

One side of Logan’s mouth pulled upwards.

‘Longer than you’ve been around,’ he said smoothly. He cocked his head. ‘You ever done time?’

Charlie raised an eyebrow at that.

‘Me?’ he laughed. ‘What do you think?’

Logan regarded him evenly. ‘I think that you wouldn’t last very long in prison,’ he said, blunt, causing Charlie’s smile to thin.

‘You underestimate me,’ he said coolly, something icy entering his blue eyes. It disappeared almost as quickly as it had appeared, however, and Charlie waved a careless hand in front of him. ‘Not that it matters, anyway. _I_ , unlike some, am far too good at what I do to get caught.’

Both of Logan’s eyebrows went up at that.

‘Is that so?’ he murmured, his expression thoughtful. ‘What was it that you said you did again?’

‘Oh, this and that,’ Charlie answered vaguely, gesturing with his hand. ‘I’m a bit of a jack-of-all-trades, you see.’

‘But master of none?’ Logan’s tone was challenging.

Charlie sent him a scornful look, annoyed by the implication.

‘Quite the opposite,’ he said crisply. He gave Logan a fierce look. ‘Why else do you think I’m here?’

Logan shrugged at that.

‘Dunno,’ he said, feigning a lack interest, ‘Why don’t you tell me?’

Charlie paused at that and tilted his head.

‘You know, you sure seem interested in what I can and can’t do,’ he said casually, a note of suspicion entering his voice. His hand crept near to the waist of his trousers, where Logan knew that he had at least one weapon stashed. ‘A bit _too_ interested for my liking, if I’m honest …’

Logan gave an internal sigh.

‘You think I’m a cop,’ he said bluntly, causing Charlie’s hand to pause.

‘Yes,’ Charlie said after a beat. ‘That’s exactly what I think.’

‘You’re wrong,’ Logan said calmly. ‘You already know that Carl vouched for me.’

‘Yeah,’ Charlie licked his lips, his back tense. ‘But then maybe I can’t trust _Carl_.’

Logan cursed internally. He had been too antagonistic, too careless. He should have known that this version of Charlie would be highly suspicious and paranoid. They had made him that way, after all.

Logan opened his mouth to speak but suddenly there was a gun in front of his face, Charlie’s grip firm and steady and his eyes ice-cold and narrowed.

‘Give me one good reason not to shoot you,’ he said icily, his gaze unwavering.

Logan glanced from the gun to Charlie and raised an eyebrow.

‘I thought I already did,’ he said easily, not moving from his seat opposite Charles. ‘I told you, Carl trusts me. The only real question then, bub, is if you do.’

Charlie paused and that and frowned. The hand that had been holding the gun so steadily before, now dipped.

‘What?’ he asked uncertainly.

Logan met his eyes and fixed them there, before slowly reaching out with his right hand.

‘Do you trust me?’ he asked Charles quietly.

Charlie blinked, his blue eyes round and bewildered for a moment before they suddenly cleared. He dropped the gun and reached out to clasp Logan’s hand in his.

‘With my life,’ he answered, sincerity apparent in every fibre of his being.

They stayed like that for a moment before Charlie blinked, once again returning to himself. By the time he looked down at his hand, Logan had retreated, and was instead stooping down to pick up the fallen gun.

‘Here,’ he said gruffly, holding the gun out to Charlie. ‘You dropped this.’

Charlie blinked once more before taking the gun from his hand and nodding.

‘Thanks,’ he said briskly, following it up with a wry smile, ‘Knowing my luck I wouldn’t have noticed it missing till I needed it the most.’

‘No problem,’ Logan muttered, turning his attention back to his cigar.

Charlie smiled.

‘Glad I have you to watch my back, man,’ he said, grinning at Logan companionably.

Logan nodded.

‘It’s what I’m here for,’ he answered.

 

They were silent for the rest of the journey.


End file.
